


Take Me, I'm Yours.

by zillah1199



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Breathplay, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zillah1199/pseuds/zillah1199
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for this prompt on kink!meme:<br/>Fenris has never had a willing sexual encounter with a man, and has some assumptions about how it must always be unwilling between two men. Somehow, he stumbles upon Anders revealing stress by a quick go with a guy, and Fenris assumes Anders is being raped. Even if he doesn't like him, Fenris doesn't stand for that and interrupts, making Anders mad because it scares off the guy he was with.</p><p>Fenris is mad because he thinks he did Anders a favor and Anders is too stubborn to admit it.</p><p>Eventually Anders ends up proving to him that he really does enjoy getting fucked by guys, by getting Fenris to fuck him.</p><p>http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/10749.html?thread=41690365#t41690365</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Anders was in ecstasy, back arched across a dilapidated cot, shirt up, pants lost somewhere on the floor. His cock was in his hand and he was fisting it at an almost violent tempo, matching the rhythm of the cock pounding into him. He groaned as the man hitched Anders' leg up with one hand, while other tightened on the mage's neck. Squeezing, fingers digging in just under his jaw, enough pressure to hint at the stars that might bloom at the edge of his vision, intensifying the urgency building just below his belly into a fire of primal intensity. A brilliant spark, burning white hot on the edge between pleasure and pain. He groaned, a thick wheezing noise that forced itself past the pressure on his throat. He was close, so close. Every nerve in his body was singing, loud and urgent. He could see the edge and he was almost ready for that glorious leap into orgasmic oblivion.

That was when all hell broke loose. One minute he was gasping in bliss, the next Fenris was hauling Hawke across the room, brands flaring, sword waving, screaming something incomprehensible in Tevinter. Somehow, between them, Hawke and Anders managed to keep Fenris from killing or even wounding the mage's amorous companion, though the result was the three of them piled in an awkward jumble on the floor while Anders' erstwhile (and almost certainly totally scared off) lover?..fuck-toy?..that guy he'd been banging flew out the door so fast he might have been lyrium charged himself.

“What the fuck, Fenris?” Anders glared at him in total outrage. Fenris, suddenly noticing that he was sitting more or less in Anders' lap - Anders' naked lap - leapt to his feet, pulling the mage after him.

“Venhedis, mage, are you well, are you hurt?” Fenris made an attempt at smoothing Anders' wrinkled shirt, circling round him in concern. “You should heal yourself at once! Are you bleeding?” He made as if to examine Anders' backside for damage before realizing what he was doing and jerking away.

“What are you doing! You could have knocked!” Anders moved away from the elf hovering fretfully in front of him and retrieved his trousers.

“There is no internal damage?” He turned Anders' head from side to side, examining his bruised throat. “Heal these at once!” 

“Umm, hello! Broken arm down here!” Hawke was still sprawled on the floor. 

“Oh, shit, Hawke, what happened?” Gingerly the healer helped him onto the cot. Hawke grimaced, covertly inspecting the cot for suspicious wet spots as he allowed Anders to lower him onto it. 

“Oh, you know,” Hawke and he grunted in relief as a wave of healing washed over him. “Slavers, bandits, bloodmages and abominations. It's Tuesday.” 

Satisfied that he'd resolved Hawke's injury, Anders yanked his pants back on and returned his attention to Fenris, who was hanging over him like a frantic mother with an injured newborn.

“Did you know that man? Where did he come from?”

“That's Angus. I helped his sister once. He comes by every other week or so.”

Fenris recoiled in horror. “This is how he repays you for aiding his family! He has done this repeatedly? Tell me where to find him! Fasta Vass!” the elf was gesturing wildly, clutching at his white hair. “This cannot be allowed! I will tear his heart out and feed it to the wild dogs in the alleys!”

Anders just looked at him. 

“I cannot believe you did not come to one of us about this! Have no fear, Anders I will find him and deal with this. Hawke, you will guard him until I return.” Before Anders could say anything else, the elf had grabbed his sword and rushed out of the clinic door.

Anders sat down next to Hawke. “What just happened?”

***

Lucky for Angus, Fenris never found him and Anders did his best to smooth over the incident with him, though the other man made it pretty clear that, as fine a piece of ass as Anders was, he just wasn't worth getting dismembered over. 

Anders was willing to forget the incident and get on with his own business, but Fenris would have none of it. When Anders opened the clinic doors the next day, there was Fenris, sword on his back and a large basket of food in hand. What's more he stayed at the clinic the entire day, looking over each of Anders' prospective patients with a jaundiced eye, hovering close when Anders was required to attend any male over the age of ten and many of the more burly women. It was a busy day, so lunch and dinner were grabbed in between patients, with little chance for interaction. When the shadows grew long and it became clear that no more refugees were going to trickle in, Fenris gathered up his empty basket and turned to face the healer.

It was obvious from the moment he made eye-contact that Fenris was uncomfortable, so Anders merely crossed his arms and waited for the elf to speak. After fidgeting and wringing his hands, Fenris finally fixed his eyes on a spot just below Anders' collarbone and spoke.

“Mage.” He cleared his throat purposefully. “ My behaviour has been uncalled for. I had not realised until I saw with my own eyes that what you said was true.” His lips pressed into a firm line and he forced himself to look directly at Anders. “I apologize.”

“You...what?” That was pretty much the last thing Anders had expected to hear.

“I apologize,” Having gotten that out, Fenris regained his momentum. “What happened to you...it was unconscionable. I cannot allow you to put yourself in such danger again. If I had only realised sooner....You do not deserve to be treated thusly. Be certain that you lock the door firmly after I leave. You might wish to push some furniture against it. I will return in the morning. Do not open the door until that time.” He nodded decisively, turned and exited the clinic, waiting pointedly outside until Anders closed and locked the door behind him.

Anders pinched himself. Nope, not dreaming. He stared at the door, scratching his head, wondering who this imposter was and what he had done with Fenris.

Sure enough, the next day, there was Fenris, bright and early, basket in hand. That day passed much the same as the previous had, Fenris hovering protectively over him while he worked, feeding him and admonishing caution when he left in the evening. The same thing the following day and the day after that until the days stretched into a week and beyond until Anders was at his wit's end trying to figure out what in the Void was going on.


	2. Chapter 2

About two weeks after the incident, Hawke woke up early and made his way downstairs to find Anders asleep on the settee. He scratched himself sleepily before nudging the healer awake. “What's up?”

Anders jerked. “Oh, Hawke, it's you. I'm hiding from Fenris.”

“Hiding.”

“Yeah.” Anders ran a hand through his hair, trying to restore it to order.

“From Fenris.” Anders nodded. “Why, what did you do to him?”

“What did I do? I didn't do anything, that damned elf has lost his mind!”

Hawke raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“He's been guarding me, every day since that day I healed your arm. I can't even take a piss without him hanging over me. He brings food and just stands there, glaring at my patients like they're all a bunch of mass-murderers.”

“Fenris? Elf, about so high, white hair?”

“Go ahead and laugh, but he's driving me crazy.”

“Maybe that's his plan. Some new, diabolical way to aggravate you.”

Anders cast him a skeptical look. “Do you really think he's that devious?”

“Hmm. I guess you're right.”

“If I didn't know better, I'd think he was courting me.”

Hawke's face was incredulous. “Really? Courting you? Our Fenris?”

“He won't let anyone near me without practically forcing them to submit to a full body search. I'd think he was jealous except he barely talks to me and doesn't come near me except when we're eating. Even then he avoids body contact like I've got some sort of disease.”

A wicked grin spread across Garrett's face. “Well, he did catch you with your pants down. Maybe it's one of those I don't want him but you can't have him kind of things.”

“That's not an image designed to help me sleep at night. I mean he's gorgeous, but crazy. Wait, you seem to like gorgeous but crazy, what do you think?”

Hawke shrugged. “Frankly, he scares the shit out of me.”

“Says the man who lives with a blood mage.”

“Merrill doesn't have wild mood swings that tend to end in gruesome acts of internal rearrangement.”

“Point.”

They started towards the kitchen to see about breakfast when someone began banging frantically on the front door. Hawke rushed to answer it before the noise woke anyone else up.

“Hawke, have you seen Anders? He is not at the clinic and I'm afraid something has...oh. I see he is with you. That's good.” Fenris nodded with satisfaction. “I will accompany him to his clinic when he is ready.”

“We're, um, just starting to have breakfast, Fenris, would you like some?”

“No, thank you. I have already dined. If Anders is not prepared to leave immediately I will go and procure some foodstuffs. Do not allow him to leave until I return.” Fenris marched out the door, closing it behind him. 

Hawke turned and stared at Anders, pointing back at the door with a look of disbelief on his face.

“I know!” Anders threw his hands up. “He's lost his marbles. I don't know what I'm going to do about him.”


	3. Chapter 3

As it happened, that day at the clinic was relatively quiet. Anders busied himself making up fresh potions and wrapping bandages while Fenris shoved some cots out of the way, stripped down to his leggings and practised his sword-work. Anders had just finished filling up the last bottle of healing potion when he happened to look up. 

Fenris was practically flying around the outer room. His moves were elegant, graceful, full of strength and oozing raw masculinity. Sweat dripped down his neck, along the smooth planes of his chest and back, gathering at the waistband of his legging, leaving a slight damp shadow at the small of his back and just below his navel. His feet skipped over the ground, his arms framed the air around him. His back bent and arched and his legs carried him like the haunches of a powerful animal. Anders just stood there staring, a tiny puddle of drool forming in his open mouth.

“RETURN TO YOUR WORK. HE IS A DISTRACTION.”

_Shut up Justice, he's a beautiful distraction. You can at least let me look._

“YOU HAVE WORK TO DO.”

_He's covered in lyrium. I know you like that. You've been sniffing around him ever since the first time you saw him light up._

“WE DO NOT SNIFF.”

_Uh huh, Right._

“...YOU MAY LOOK. BUT ONLY FOR A SHORT TIME.”

Anders filled a small pitcher with water and waited until Fenris finished. The elf was panting lightly, his hair wet with sweat. Anders walked over, trying to keep his hand steady and gave him the pitcher.

The elf grunted, pushing his dripping bangs out of his eyes. “My thanks.” He drank most of the water then dumped the rest over his head.

“MMMMM.....”

Anders started slightly, but Fenris was too busy shaking the water out of his hair to notice. He realised that the exertions had activated the warrior's lyrium just the slightest bit, and the brands were pulsing with the beat of the elf's heart.

Anders bit his down on his lip to prevent himself from making some sort of embarrassing noise. _I agree, that is totally hot._

“MMMMM...WHAT? WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

_Just commenting on the view. You seem to be enjoying it as well._

“BE SILENT. THERE IS NO VIEW. DO WE NOT HAVE SOMETHING BETTER TO DO WITH OUR TIME?”

_Shut it, Justice._

*** 

Fenris was over by the pump pouring water over himself when Hawke came into the clinic with Merrill. Hawke had to nudge Anders twice to get his attention. “See something you like?”

Anders snorted unconvincingly. “I'm a healer. My interest is purely professional.”

“Right. “ Hawke punched him in the arm. “So, what do you think about heading out to the Blooming Rose? I've got to see a guy about a lost signet ring or some damned thing.”

“Aren't you a little rich for that sort of thing these days?” Anders gestured at Hawke's extremely expensive leather armour. “Why do you keep running around doing all this crazy stuff?”

Hawke shrugged. “A man's got to have hobbies. Besides, Merrill's keen to see the inside of a brothel.”

“I'll get my staff.”

“You shouldn't need it. We're just going to the Blooming Rose. What could possibly...”

“DON'T!” Anders covered Hawke's mouth with his hand. “Don't say it. Just don't.”

Anders fetched his staff while Fenris re-armoured. The walk from Hawke's manor to the Rose was relatively uneventful. Although Fenris did insist on taking Anders' arm and glowering at everyone they passed. Merrill giggled a bit and Hawke smirked. After a few feet, Anders jerked his arm away and Fenris grabbed it back.

“Would you like to hold my hand, Fenris?”

Fenris grumbled. “I would not have you accosted. I hope that no one will attempt to procure your services when we enter the brothel.”

Anders raised his eyebrows. “My services or my... _services_ ?” He made sure to put a suggestive drawl on the last word. He hadn't thought that Fenris' expression could grow even more sour.

“It would be dangerous for me to allow you to enter such an establishment without supervision. Someone might attempt to take advantage.”

“Really, Fenris, I'm a great big grown-up apostate. I think I can handle myself in the Rose.”

“That remains to be seen.” And, true to his word, Fenris would not allow Anders or Merrill into the building without allowing Fenris to thoroughly canvass the room first.

Hawke told the others to have a seat while he went looking for his contract. “Order anything you want. The sherry here is exceptional. The stew's not bad either.”

Merrill looked around, eyes like saucers. “I don't see any roses, Hawke.”

Hawke just laughed. “I'll see what I can do.” He waved as he headed up the stairs. “Be good, children, don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

Anders rolled his eyes. “That doesn't leave much.” He flagged the nearest serving wench down and they all ordered dinner and drinks. Anders asked for ale, lamb stew, the fruit plate and some extra cheese while he was at it. It was on Hawke's tab, after all. They had just been served when Hawke came back down the stairs. “Ooh, the cheese plate. My favourite.”

“You come here often, then, Hawke?” Fenris curled his lip in distaste.

“Used to,” Hawke said over a mouthful of Gorgonzola. “Until Orana started working for me. The food here is fabulous and I'm rubbish as a cook.”

Anders grimaced. “Don't remind me. If I never have another of your 'Deep Roads Nug Specials,' I'll die a happy man.”


	4. Chapter 4

Even Fenris had to agree the food was spectacular. He had managed to relax enough to enjoy a few glasses of wine. Somehow, Hawke had gotten Madame Lusine to deliver a huge vase full of roses to their table and Merrill was cooing over them. Several of the patrons had waved 'hello' to Anders, and one of the girls, a giggly blonde who was heavily pregnant plopped herself down in his lap. She planted a kiss on his cheek. “Hello, pretty boy. You here to work on us or under us?”

Anders smiled and patted her tummy. “Strictly professional, sweetheart. Speaking of which, you need to stop by the clinic for a check-up. Soon.”

She pouted at him. “You're not going to put me off working are you? The seneschal's boy pays extra for this.” She rubbed her protruding belly.

Anders shook his head. “Not quite yet, but it's not going to be long now. Have you made any arrangements for the child?”

The girl grinned. “You don't think I'd raise it in this place? Nah, my sister's got herself a man up in Starkhaven. They've had no luck trying for a babe and it's been ages. She'll raise it proper. By the way,” she leaned forwards and whispered conspiratorially in his ear, “Jethann's just got a new shipment of ropes in from Antiva. Thought you might be interested.” She smirked and climbed off his lap, giggling when he swatted her behind.

He took a swig of his ale and noticed that Fenris was watching him with an odd look on his face. Anders just shrugged mentally. A few moments later, Fenris stood up. “I must relieve myself.” He fixed Hawke with a stern stare. “You will watch over these two until I return?”

Hawke gave him a confused look but nodded. “Sure thing, Fenris. Take your time.” He'd ordered a tray of sweets and whipped cream and was feeding them to Merrill. As soon as Fenris was out of sight, Anders wiped a glob of whipped cream off his face and stood up.

“I'll be back, I want to talk to Jethann for a few minutes.” Hawke gave him a _look_ but Anders contrived to look innocent as he bolted for the stairs.

Upstairs, Jethann was in his room, lounging on the bed. When he saw Anders, his eyes lit up. “Well, hello there, gorgeous, today's my rest day, but I'll make an exception for you.”

Anders leaned against the door frame and grinned hugely. “I'll bet you say that to all the boys.”

Jethann chuckled, low and throaty. “Mmm, and all the girls, too. So,” his gaze raked the healer's lean frame. ”Work or play?”

Anders grimaced. “I wish it were play. I'm with Hawke on a job and we brought the homicidal elf with us.”

Jethann quirked an eyebrow. “ _That_ glowy ball of sexual frustration. Darling, you should have brought him up here with you. If I've ever met anyone in need of a good, hard shagging it's him. What? Don't tell me you haven't thought about it.”

“Oh, I've thought about it. I've also thought about the horrible ways in which he would murder me if I tried.”

Jethann cocked his head and looked sidelong at Anders. “Hmm, you say that, but I heard about him and Angus.”

“Oh, Maker. Is there anyone who hasn't heard about that?”

“All I'm saying is, that sounds like the actions of a jealous man to me.”

“Forget about Fenris. Evie says you got a new shipment of ropes in?”

“Did I ever! They're positively luscious. The finest Antivan silk. I've got a set in this amazing midnight blue that would look positively sinful against your skin. Sure you don't have time for a little romp?”

“Don't tempt me. I just want to look.”

Jethann heaved a huge mock sigh before pulling a box out from under the bed. “Suit yourself.” After rummaging for a moment he pulled out two long deep blue ropes, crafted with an elaborate weave that shimmered in the candlelight. Anders hummed as he ran them appreciatively through his hands. Jethann leaned in and whispered into his ear. “You should try them against your skin. They're to die for.”

Anders grinned and pushed up his sleeves. “Alright, but just a little. If I don't get back downstairs before too long Hawke'll give me a hard time.”

“The best kind of time,” he drawled, looping the rope around Anders' wrist. Anders groaned at the slippery feel of the silk. “Now turn around, honey, and let me get the other one.” Anders turned his back and dutifully put his arms behind him. He closed his eyes and leaned into the seductive feeling of having it wound around his wrists. He shivered a little, feeling himself getting hard as Jethann tightened the ropes into his skin. 

At which point the door burst open and Fenris, glowing like a demented firefly, demanded that Jethann “unhand Anders at once!”

“Bitch, please.” Jethann looked down his lightly powdered nose at the other elf. “If you think you're the scariest thing to walk through that door, you need to think again.”

“You will release Anders and step away from him at once.”

“Fenris...” Anders would have pinched the bridge of his nose if he weren't tied up. 

“It is alright, mage, I will not allow him to compromise you any further.” He shoved the healer behind him as soon as his wrists were free. “You, whore, do not think I will allow you to have your way with him.”

Jethann waved at him dismissively. “Honey, a handful of this rope, a nice leather paddle and that mage of yours will be begging me to have my way with him. You should try it.”

“You are perverse!” He pushed Anders towards the steps.

Jethann smirked, examining his nails languorously. “Darling, you have no idea.”

Fenris sneered and took a step forwards. “That is disgusting. You will keep your hands to yourself and not approach Anders in the future. I will be watching you.” He spun and exited the room, stomping down the stairs to where Anders was waiting with Hawke and Merrill. He grabbed the mage's arm. “We are leaving.”

Anders jerked away. “We are not. What the hell is with you, anyway?”

“You will leave with me now, or I will pick you up and carry you out of here.”

Anders narrowed his eyes and leaned into Fenris's face. “You just try it.”

Fenris narrowed his own eyes right back at the healer. “Watch me.”

Hawke just stared at the two of them.

The walk home was long and pointedly silent. Fenris insisted on searching the clinic before he would leave Anders alone in it. When he left Anders slammed the door behind him and threw the lock as forcefully as he could. He stormed over to the cot, flung himself on to it and fumed. After a while he just shook his head in disgust and readied himself for sleep. “Maker's breath. At this rate, I'll never get laid again.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was only another week before Hawke sauntered back into the clinic. A week during which Anders was certain his hair was turning grey. At least the parts he wasn't tearing out. He'd tried to sneak out twice and Fenris had hauled him back both times, lecturing him on his irresponsible lack of concern for his own welfare. The elf had bodily ejected a patient that had openly flirted with Anders while having a dislocated shoulder reset. That had turned into a shouting match.

“Who appointed you my personal guardian?”

“You seem determined to leave yourself open to further abuse. If you cannot protect yourself then I will have to do it for you.”

“Since when are you my mother? I can take care of myself!”

“You cannot. That much is obvious. And if I were your mother I would have given you a thorough spanking by now!” Anders gawked at the elf at that, and Fenris found his ears turning red. He abruptly walked away and busied himself whetting his sword while Anders tried to surreptitiously adjust his suddenly far too snug trousers.

Fortunately, Hawke's timely entrance spared them from further awkwardness. “Morning, gentlemen. Who fancies a trip to the Wounded Coast?”

They cut through Hawke's mansion, stopping to pick up a pack of supplies that Merrill had prepared for them. Hawke kissed her on the nose as they exited the front door. “Back soon, love.”

“The blood mage is not accompanying us?” Fenris shifted his broadsword on his back.

“No, Merrill has some shopping to do. I promised to let her alone for the day. She's shopping for a name-day present for me, but I'm not supposed to know that.”

“Ah. She will be going with Bodhan or your mabari, then.”

“Hmm? No, Bodhan and Sandal took Stubby out for the afternoon. Apparently Sandal and Stubby play a mean game of hide and seek.”

Fenris stopped dead, swearing vividly. Anders nearly collided with him and stumbled a bit trying to keep his footing. “I am surrounded by fools!” The elf threw his hands in the air. “You are actually going to let her go to the market by herself?”

“Ye-es?”

“What if she is accosted? What if there are Templars present? Have you heard nothing Anders has said over the years? Have you not read his Manifesto? The treatment mages receive at the hands of such people is reprehensible! As her mate it is your duty to protect her as I protect my mage! Vishante kaffar! If you will not watch over her, then I must stay here. Be sure you take more care with Anders' well-being.” Fenris jabbed a finger in Hawke's face, then stormed back into the manor, slamming the door behind him. Hawke and Anders just stood there in stunned silence.

“What just happened?”

Anders grimaced. “I've been asking that for weeks now.”

“Pinch me.”

“Doesn't help.”

“Fenris read your Manifesto?” Hawke spoke slowly, trying to wrap his brain around the words. 

“Even asked me to clarify a couple of words.”

“Could he be under some kind of spell? Possessed by a demon?”

Anders shook his head. “Justice doesn't think so. And if it were a demon, he'd have turned all bubbly and putrid by now.”

“So he's just gone mad, then.”

“Near as I can figure.”


	6. Chapter 6

If Fenris' hair weren't already white, shopping with Merrill would almost certainly have caused it to turn. The little blood mage flitted all over the market, chattering to vendors and other shoppers, totally oblivious to his attempts to monitor her movements. She took what Fenris considered to be an absurd amount of time choosing a gift for Hawke. By the time he escorted her back to the estate his patience was wearing painfully thin. Fortunately, by the time they arrived, Bodhan had returned, son and mabari in tow. Fenris felt safe leaving Merrill in their care after obtaining the confused dwarf's pledge to watch over her. Hungry and irritable, he headed for the Hanged Man. There were a number of things he needed to speak to Varric about.

He found the dwarf in his usual chambers and he ordered a bottle of wine and a plate of what was allegedly roast beef to be sent up to him there. 

“Broody! Good to see you. Been awhile. A little Hawke tells me you've been running around after our favourite apostate lately.”

Fenris dropped into the nearest chair. “Are you aware of how mages are treated in this city?”

Varric cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe you two have had a little bit too much togetherness. Now you're starting to sound like him.”

“It's true! I have seen it with my own eyes. Hawke and I walked in on him being molested by some Darktown thug!”

Varric chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I heard about that. Blondie was quite piqued you scared off his boyfriend.”

Fenris stared at him, aghast. “That man was forcing himself on Anders! And the slattern at the whorehouse had Anders restrained. If I had not arrived when I did, who knows what would have happened!”

“Now, now, you're getting yourself all worked up over nothing. Let Uncle Varric explain how it works. Sometimes, Broody, when a man and another man love each other very much. Or a little. Or not, whatever, but sometimes a man likes to have another man's...”

“Are you mad? That is revolting. How can any man, especially someone like Anders, like being forced to submit to another man?”

Varric shrugged. “I hear you can do quite a good business with that sort of thing.”

“You do not understand! That...that miscreant had Anders at his mercy. Anders tells me it had been going on for some time. Were you aware of this?”

“I was aware that Blondie had a, shall we say, gentleman friend, if that's what you mean. Why are you suddenly so interested in the mage's love life?”

“Because I did not believe him, when he spoke to us about the brutalities that mages suffer at the hands of Templars and others. I thought he was lying, attempting to manipulate those around into seeing him as helpless, when he was in fact powerful and therefore dangerous.”

“Well, elf, there's all kinds of power, and I won't deny that mages in Thedas have it bad.”

“It is not so in the Imperium. There the magisters hold all the power and they use it to bend others to their will or crush them beneath their feet.”

“But Blondie's free now. He's here in Kirkwall, and as long as we keep the Templars away from him, he's about as safe as a mage can be.”

“Safe? Safe! He can barely exit the clinic without being raped! I have seen men looking at him and I can only imagine what depravities they would visit upon him if I were not there.” Fenris was clenching his hands in agitation.

“Maybe Blondie's up for a little depravity. He always struck me as a bit of a kinky sort.”

“No one can possibly enjoy that kind of attention. It is cruel, the most humiliating punishment one man can visit on another. “

“You've lost me, Broody.”

Fenris tried to hold in his temper. “In the Imperium, men, slaves and criminals usually, but sometimes other magisters who have lost a duel or shamed their house in some way, are forced to submit to another man as a symbol of their degradation. They are publicly raped and the shame of it stays with them for years. It is the worst, the most demeaning punishment one can endure, short of death.” He explained slowly, in case Varric was simply misunderstanding him.

“What about male lovers?”

The elf waved the question aside. “A Tevinter male is expected to marry as soon as the female his family has chosen for him is of an age to breed. For a man to seek the intimate company of another man is considered an offense against one's family and the Imperium itself, even if the man has already done his duty and fathered several children. Some magisters,” Fenris shifted uncomfortably and his ears flattened against his skull, “do seek the company of male slaves for sexual purposes. But it is unusual and those who are discovered are shunned as perversities of nature.”

“So, you're telling me that in the Tevinter Imperium, where no one bats an eye at vicious blood-sports, slavery, brutality and openly practiced blood magic, being interested in another man freaks everyone out?”

“Of course. To submit to the will of another is the ultimate form of weakness. And Tevinter despises weakness.”

“Huh.” Varric sat back in his chair. “You know, elf. Out here in the saner parts of Thedas, two men together just isn't that big a deal. Nobody cares who does the doing and who does the receiving. And, you know, there are some guys who like being done unto.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes and leaned forwards, examing Varric's face for a tell. “Is this a dwarf thing?”


	7. Edited Version

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added a few things, so I didn't end up with a stupidly short chapter after this one.

After a quick bath at Hawke's mansion, and an assurance from Merrill that her shopping trip with Fenris was 'ever so lovely', Hawke and Anders decided to head to the Hanged Man. Anders had tried his best to wheedle Hawke into stopping by the Rose, but Hawke would have none of it. “If I let you out of my sight for a moment, Fenris'll have my head.”

Anders was horrified. “Not you too. Are you telling me that, now that I've finally gotten Justice to loosen my leash, that crazy elf is going to pull it tight and choke me with it?”

“I thought you liked that sort of thing,” Hawke's tone was mischievous and more than a little bit wry.

“Only when there's a thorough fucking going with it. The only parts of me that Fenris is fucking with are my patience, my frustration levels and my will to live.”

Inside the Tavern, Anders hid in the hallway while Hawke checked Varric's room to make sure it was elf-free. Varric laughed. “Come on in, Blondie. Fenris left awhile ago. You're safe with me.”

Anders sunk gratefully into a chair. “I need ale. Lots of ale.” 

“I'll have Norah send up some food.” Hawke signalled her from the landing. 

Anders sat with his head in his hands. “Not so long ago, my life made a kind of sense. Everything was clear and simple.” He held out one hand. “Possessed apostate living in the sewers,” he held out the other “crazy elvhen ex-slave squatting in Hightown.” He moved his hands close together. “Two entities occasionally meet, bickering ensues, arguments, insults, everybody goes home happy.” He put his head back into his hands. “Now it's all stomping and slamming and elves hovering over me like some kind of psychotic chaperone. Honestly, what is with him?”

“Funny you should ask that,” Varric leaned back in his chair, preparatory to starting a good monologue. “I had an extremely interesting talk with our favourite Broodmeister not an hour ago.” And he proceeded to relate the conversation he'd had with Fenris, complete with vivid descriptions of the elf's various expressions, gestures and behaviour.

When he was finished, Anders and Hawke were staring at him, Anders aghast and Hawke very obviously trying not to laugh hysterically.

“Wait,” Hawke bit down on his lip and tried to hold back the laughter bubbling up into his mouth, but failed. “You're telling me that Fenris thinks that every man who looks at Anders twice is trying to rape him? That Angus and Jethann...” Hawke gave up the battle and howled openly, tears streaming from his eyes while Anders just glared sourly at him.

The mage huffed indignantly and took a long drink, eyeing Hawke balefully over the rim of his tankard. “Tevinter sounds like a really shit place to live.”

“I won't argue with you there, Blondie.” 

He looked mournfully at his tankard until Varric filled it again. The other two continued to tease him, while he just glared at them as he drank. After three full tankards of ale and a bowl of whatever Corff was passing off as stew today, Anders' bladder was becoming uncomfortably full. He pushed away from the table, excusing himself.

“Would you like me to come with you and hold your hand? Or something else?” Hawke waggled his eyebrows and leered playfully.

Anders made a rude hand gesture.

Outside, he rested his head against the cool bricks of the alley wall listening to the soothing sound of his own urine splattering onto the ground. Tucking himself away, he looked up at the night sky, a few stars twinkling through the pervasive smog of the foundries. Even the smell of garbage, stale piss and who knows what else couldn't hide the fact that it was a particularly lovely evening. One of those last, fine, cool evenings of spring before the hot, wet blanket of summer mired the city in it's own sweat.

He started back towards the door when he saw a tall man waiting casually outside. He'd noticed the man in the bar. Looked like a sailor, maybe, or a dock worker. His skin was tanned a burnished bronze, making his grey eyes seem unnaturally bright by contrast. His hair was long, with an auburn cast, and the man wore it in a tight braid down his back. His body was long and lean, well-defined but not overly muscled. Just the sort of thing that never failed to make Anders' breath catch in his throat and his heart beat a little faster. The man smiled and made small talk, his eyes roaming over Anders' body as they chatted, a certain look in his eye that Anders had no trouble interpreting.

Anders knew this dance very well. The man took a step closer, close enough to imply intimacy, but not so close that Anders couldn't move away if he wanted to. Anders definitely didn't want to. It had been a very long time since he'd had anonymous sex in an alley, and between the swimmy feeling from the ale and the rush of blood to his groin, he was feeling positively giddy. The man ran his fingers along Anders' jaw in a gentle and oh-so-promising caress and Anders leaned into it hungrily. He let himself be guided slowly back into the alley until he was pressed against the bricks, just past the wash of light from the street lanterns. Hot breath on his neck, Anders fisted his hands in the soft cloth of the man's tunic and gasped, a desperate wail escaping him as the man bit down on the soft skin of his throat.

He pulled the stranger against him and ground into him, pushing the tunic up to run his hands over a firm, hairless torso. Pinching a nipple won him an appreciative grunt, a press of lips and a thrusting tongue. Anders whimpered, yanking at the laces of the man's trousers, reaching in to caress the hard length throbbing against a nest of soft curls. 

The man turned Anders roughly, back to chest, thrusting his hips against the mage's ass while he reached around to undo the ties of Anders' leather pants. Anders threw his head back onto the other man's shoulder as he felt a warm hand firmly wrapped around his engorged cock. “Please,” his voice came out guttural and wanting. “Oh, please.” The dry chuckle in his ear was so promising Anders nearly came right there.

Suddenly the alley lit up like the Chantry on festival day. “ANDERS!”

“Oh, bloody fucking hell.” Anders pushed himself off the wall and caught Fenris practically in mid-air as the enraged elf launched himself at the pair.

The other man jerked away and Anders grimaced at him, while the elf flailed in his arms. “Stranger in the alley, this is Fenris. Fenris, this is the stranger in the alley.”

The man backed away, making a conciliatory gesture, not taking his eyes off Fenris.

“Sorry, pal, he didn't say he had a boyfriend.”

Fenris was practically climbing over Anders to get to him. With a firm grip on the elf's breastplate, Anders smiled ruefully at the guy. “It's complicated.” He shrugged as best he could with a raving elf half over his shoulder. “Sorry about this.” 

“Sure. No problem.” The guy took off running, while Fenris cursed after him in mix of Tevinter and Trade. When Anders was certain the other man was gone he finally released Fenris. The elf shoved him against the wall and shouted into his face.

“Are you mad! If I hadn't come back that man would have had you over a barrel.”

“Yes, Fenris. That was the idea.”

“Are you hurt? How could you be so reckless! Why did you come out here alone?”

“I had to take a piss, elf, and thanks to you, I just missed a chance to get pounded hard against a brick wall.”

“You are welcome.”

“Fenris.” Anders pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think we need to have a little talk.”

Anders sighed, trying to figure out how best to begin. “That man was not attacking me. He was a very nice man, a very attractive man, a man I really, really wanted to have sex with.”

Fenris frowned, a little wrinkle forming over the bridge of his nose. “You do not have to allow strangers access to your body.”

“No, Fenris, I don't have to. I want to.”

Fenris shook his head. “It is not necessary. I will protect you. I owe it to you for not believing you for all these years.”

“Fenris.” Anders ground his teeth. “I really, truly appreciate what you're trying to do. And I don't want to trivialize just how bad it can be to be a mage at the mercy of Templars, or other people who fear and hate us, but some people, me for example, enjoy sex with either gender. I was pressed up against a brick wall because I wanted to be pressed up against a brick wall. I needed it. Can you understand that?”

Fenris looked at him for a moment, his face twisting in a peculiar grimace. Suddenly his eyes took on that huge, moist, limpid quality elves sometimes get and his face became a mask of tragic compassion. “Oh, Anders. You poor man.” He brushed a loose strand of hair behind the mage's ear. “I had not realized how badly they had broken you.” For one horrifying moment, Anders thought the elf was going to hug him. Instead, Fenris just placed one hand on his shoulder. “I know how difficult it can be. After a time, you come to believe that you deserve such treatment, that you need it. It doesn't have to be this way. I will never let another person abuse you. I swear to you that I will protect you. Come, let us return to our friends.”

Anders wasn't sure if that was the sweetest or the most disturbing thing anyone had ever said to him. He just sighed wearily and let Fenris lead him back into the bar.

He followed Fenris docilely as the elf walked him home, then thoroughly checked the clinic for any one that might have hidden themselves away with intent to leap out and ravish Anders in his sleep. He locked the door behind the elf and lay down on his cot wondering exactly where his life had gone so badly wrong.

He stared at the ceiling for a long time, thinking about how handsome that stranger had been and how good it had been to feel him pressed up behind him. His neglected cock stirred again and he reached down to slowly stroke it to full hardness. He imagined the man's hot breath on the back of his neck, the way his strong, firm hands had felt, pulling on him just so, a circle around the head, then back again. Anders moaned a little, his hips rocking with the movement. He imagined the man whispering in his ear, grunting his name in a low gravelly voice as he thrust powerfully into him. Anders was bucking now, his hand pumping frantically. His eyes were shut tight, and he could visualise that hand, tugging him harder and harder, that elegant, bronze hand, long fingers, overlain with lyrium lacework, soft white hair, green eyes. 

“Fenris!” Anders moaned, bucking hard as he spent himself over his hand and onto his chest. He wheezed heavily, trembling with aftershocks for a few moments before he was able to collect himself and wipe himself with a damp cloth. He was just drifting off to sleep when his mind caught up with him and he realized just whose name he'd called out at the moment of climax.


	8. Chapter 8

By morning, Anders was despairing of ever getting control of his life again. He knew there was no point in trying to argue with Fenris. As stubborn as that elf was once he got an idea into his head, Anders would have had better luck prying a bone from between Stubby's jaws. He stood, leaning his head against the clinic door, dreading that moment when he had to open it and subject himself to an eternity of Fenris' 'protection' and an utterly non-existent sex life. Because if he couldn't figure out how to convince Fenris to stop trying to kill anyone who got near him, he was stuck with his own hand for Void knew how long. Maker, that was depressing.

“SHOW HIM.”

_Excuse me?_

“SHOW HIM. ARE YOU NOT PRACTICED IN SEDUCTION?”

_Wait, are you telling me you want me to seduce Fenris?_

“YES. CONVINCE HIM YOUR DESIRES ARE SINCERE. SHOW HIM THAT YOU DESIRE HIM.”

_Are you trying to get us killed?_

“YOU DO FIND HIM ATTRACTIVE. HE SINGS. HE SMELLS OF LYRIUM. WE...YOU DESIRE HIM.”

_Justice, I had no idea you were such a pervert._

“GET ON IT WITH IT.”

Anders squared his shoulders and opened the door.

Over the next several days, Anders took every excuse to be as close to Fenris as possible. He didn't fail to notice the slight blush that crept into the elf's ears whenever Anders found an excuse to brush lightly up against him, a hand lingering on his arm, a press of hip or shoulder that lasted just a moment longer than necessary.

When that failed to net him more than an acutely flustered elf, Anders upped the ante by finding reasons to toy with his own hair, letting his bangs slip out of their tie and into his face where he could twirl the strands absently before tucking them back behind his ear. He slipped suggestive phrases and double-entendres into their conversation and broke out his best sexy eating techniques for the baskets of food Fenris continued to bring with him every day. He made sure to shave and wash his hair, even went so far as to wear his good shirt and trousers - the clean, less patched pair that showed off his ass.

By the middle of the second week Anders had resigned himself to a lifetime of abstinence in a gilded cage.

“YOU ARE NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH.”

_Are you critiquing my technique?_

“YOU MUST APPLY YOURSELF TO THE TASK.”

_You wanna do this?_

***

Patients were thin on the ground lately. Not so few that Anders felt comfortable closing down the clinic and taking the day off, but not so many that he had enough to keep him occupied. One more day mostly alone in the clinic watching Fenris practice his sword-work and Anders was going to lose his mind. He was spending most of every day walking around with a painful erection, and wanking so often at night he was getting raw spots he had to keep healing. 

Just as Anders was getting ready to gnaw his own leg off in frustration, Hawke, as he so often did, turned up with a proposal.

“You guys want to head out to the Wounded Coast? Merrill's in need of some frolicking. I thought we'd take Stubby and do a little camping.”

“Maker, yes!” Anders tossed aside the bandages he was wrapping and practically ran out the door, Fenris grabbing up his armour and following close behind.

It was the most relaxing day Anders had had in months. The four of them romped in the ocean, throwing sticks for Stubby and playing tag in the wet sand. It was warm enough that none of them felt the need to wear anything more than their smalls when they emerged from the water and flopped down on the sand to devour the scrumptious food Orana had packed. Anders was having so much fun he even forgot to ogle Fenris.

Fenris, on the other hand, while enjoying himself far more than he let on, was finding certain aspects of the outing somewhat trying. In particular, a certain dark-eyed mage, currently clad in nothing but a pair of thin, wet smalls. He'd never viewed the mage in that manner until Varric had suggested to him that it was just possible that some men actually enjoyed the company of other men in an intimate fashion.

Fenris had a very difficult time accepting the idea as anything more than a fancy of Varric's fertile imagination, but since then he'd been noticing the mage. Really noticing him. The soft fall of his dark gold hair. The warmth of his eyes. How clever his fingers were mixing potions and wrapping bandages. And the mage had been...touching him lately. A soft brush of skin, the warm bump of a thigh. It never failed to send a rush of heat directly to Fenris' groin. Only the exertions of sword work during his days at the clinic kept his mind away from his prurient thoughts. Even so, nights alone in his mansion, he was frequently required to take himself in hand, and it was Anders' name he cried out when he spent himself.

He was feeling so guilty. It was bad enough that he used the mage in his increasingly distracting fantasies, now here he was, drinking in the sight of porcelain skin, long muscular thighs and the angle of a gold-dusted jaw, harbouring lustful thoughts. This was the very man he had sworn to protect from such depravity and he could barely restrain the urges he was feeling in the mage's presence. He was disgusted with himself. He vowed to keep his perversity to himself, however difficult. Anders must never know that Fenris was little better than those others who had used him.

Unbeknownst to him, Anders had decided to declare all out war on the elf's resistance.


	9. Chapter 9

Anders sprawled on his towel, warm in the sun's light. His hair was loose and wet, clinging to his jaw and neck. His hands were folded behind his head, one leg stretched out, the other slightly bent. The sun played across the angles of his body, highlighting his skin with a golden glow. And he had made absolutely certain of that when he'd chosen his spot and pose. He knew he wasn't as young or pretty as he'd been before he came to Kirkwall, but he was still fit and firm and knew how to show off what he had. Hawke and Merrill were searching the beach for shells while Anders used the excuse of sunbathing to flaunt himself in front of Fenris who was sharpening his sword and trying very hard not to look at the mage displayed so very enticingly beside him.

When that pose started to lose it's effectiveness, he languorously rolled over, arching his back in a sensual stretch before pillowing his head on his arms. Through lashes drawn just short of closing, Anders could see Fenris' eyes flicker and his hand twitch, unsteady with it's whetstone. He sighed happily and let his lashes flutter, as though he planned to doze off.

After a few moments, the sound of stone against steel quieted. After another moment he felt a soft touch on his back. He opened his eyes slowly, as if Fenris were a wild creature he was trying not to startle. The elf was lightly tracing the scars on his back with one hand. When he noticed Anders looking at him, he snatched his hand back as though it had been burned. Anders said nothing, but smiled encouragingly.

Fenris stared at the mage with wide eyes, holding his hand back as one would an injury. After an awkward moment, he spoke softly. “Those scars. Templars?”

“A few are darkspawn. A few from giant spiders that I didn't get to quickly enough. Most of them are from Templars, yes. As a healer, I was too valuable to the Circle for them to do permanent damage, but that doesn't mean they didn't enjoy seeing how far they could push things. You've seen them before.”

Fenris nodded. “But I never really looked.” A slight frown creased the bridge of his nose and he returned to his whetstone.

Pale Fereldans suffered for their day in the sun, and Fenris smirked at them when Anders had to heal multiple sunburns – including his own – when they settled down for dinner. Roasted rabbits, fresh caught, and with some of Orana's delicious vegetables, bread and, of course, cheese. After dinner, they basked in the firelight, passing around a bottle of exceptionally fine wine. Anders watched Fenris until he saw that the elf was growing tired. He excused himself, making sure he was first in the tent the two of them would share for the night.

Fenris followed him not long after. He drew back the flap and looked up to see Anders sprawled on the bedrolls, completely naked.

The breath went out of him as though he'd been struck. Anders was beautiful, half-hard in the moonlight that filtered through the cloth of their shelter. One hand rested casually on his thigh, making it impossible to miss the patch of dark gold curls at his groin or the thick curve of his cock as it rested along the join of his legs. His eyes were luminous, his hair loose and silken and his skin like purest alabaster. After a moment, the healer fluttered his lashes over those bottomless eyes and rolled slowly onto his stomach, displaying the perfect curve of his ass. He looked back over his shoulder at Fenris, his eyes hooded, and licked his lips in a slow, deliberate motion. Fenris moved forwards involuntarily, his mouth gone dry and his heart hammering louder than any forge-smith. 

Suddenly he jerked to a stop. “I-I'm sorry.” His voice sounded strange and artificial in his own ears. “I did not realise you had not finished dressing. I will return in a moment.” At that, Fenris flung himself out of the tent, trying to hide the tremor in his hands. 

Anders muffled his face in his pillows and screamed.

By the time Fenris returned, Anders had sullenly donned a dry pair of smalls, pummelled his pillow into obedience, cut off Justice's recriminations with an extremely rude retort and gone to sleep. Even the demons knew better than to bother in him in his dreams.

He woke up sometime just before false dawn, with an urgent need to pee and a strange feeling of weight on him. After a moment he realised Fenris had curled protectively around him in his sleep. Smirking slightly, he slipped out of the elf's grasp and stepped outside the tent. When he returned, Fenris had stretched out, seeking the warmth Anders had left behind. Carefully, Anders slipped back onto the bedrolls, spooning himself up against the elf, pleasantly surprised by how comfortably their bodies fit together.

He was nearly awake, drowsing pleasantly when Fenris sat up and scrubbed at his face. The elf frowned, looking at his place on the bedrolls, then looking back down at Anders. 

“How did I get over here?” His voice was rough with sleep and Anders felt it in his groin like lightning.

“I got up to take a piss and you stole my spot.”

“Hmph.” Fenris ruffled his hair. “My apologies.” The elf lay back down and considered the peak of the tent above him. After a moment, he turned to face Anders, with a look of deep concern on his face. “About last night...”

Anders pounced. He pressed himself flush to Fenris' body, cradled the elf's head in his hands and kissed him with every ounce of the frustrated passion built up in his soul since this whole crazy situation had started. He felt Fenris' body arch against his, mouth opening to Anders' questing tongue. Hands tangled in the healer's golden hair, and lyrium light flickered through the closed lids of his eyes. He deepened the kiss, sliding his hand down the firm muscles of the elf's back until, with a sudden yelp, Fenris launched himself out of Anders' arms and up against the side of the tent. 

Fenris, eyes gone huge and black, chest heaving, stared at the healer in shock. “Anders!”

“Fenris,” came the response, framed in a purring, velvet tone.

“I cannot...I should not...Forgive me!” Fenris pressed his hand to his forehead, forcing composure. When he looked up his lips were drawn tight and his eyes focused over Anders' head. “Please do not feel that I require payment for my protection. I should have made myself more clear. I protect you because I choose to, because I wish to. Not because I expect anything in return.” His eyes took on that liquid quality again. “I know this must be hard for you to understand. I would never, _never_ force you to pander to me. Please know that.”

Anders toyed with the feasibility of beating his own head against the tent wall. “Fenris.” He kept his voice calm and measured. “I'm not trying to pay you.”

“But you cannot...”

“Yes, Fenris, I can. I do. I want you. I. Want.You.” His voice took on volume at the blank expression on the elf's face. “I want you to fuck me. Fuck. Me.” He was getting really loud. “I want you to fuck me so hard they'll hear me screaming all the way to Antiva City!“ Really, really loud. “I want your dick so deep in my ass that when you come I'll be able to taste it!! Can you get that through your thick elvhen skull?”

The awkward sound of a throat clearing outside the tent.

“WHAT!?!” Anders screamed, throwing the tent flap aside.

“Breakfast?” Hawke gestured to a skillet full of scrambled eggs.


	10. Chapter 10

On the way back to Kirwall, Fenris had taken Hawke aside. “Perhaps you should let Anders stay with you this evening. I think he is...unwell.”

Hawke quirked an eyebrow by way of answer.

Fenris frowned. “He is having difficulty with simple concepts. His behaviour is somewhat erratic. I think he would do better under your care this evening.”

“Sure thing, Fenris. Happy to help.” It was a testament to Hawke's training as a rogue that he managed to keep a straight face.

When they reached the mansion, Anders stomped upstairs to the bathing chambers. Hawke brought a tray up to him. It was the first time he'd ever seen anyone bathe sullenly. Anders pouted all through dinner and sulked off to the spare room when the dishes were cleared up. Hawke sent Orana off to bed and curled up with Merrill on the couch. Merrill had gone to sleep and Hawke was finishing his book when he heard the faintest noise behind the couch. He looked over his shoulder in time to see Anders, cloaked and hooded, crawling on his hands and knees.

“Sneaking out? Whatever will Fenris say?”

“Fuck off, Hawke.”

“On your head be it.”

Anders snorted and kept crawling towards the door.

Ten minutes later he was peering surreptitiously into the main room of the Rose, making sure the coast was clear.

***

*WHACK*

Anders groaned in bliss. He was tied to a large wooden frame, silken ropes around his wrists and ankles, then elaborately looped and tied around his torso, creating delicious areas of pressure and friction. Behind him, Jethann was making expert use of a leather paddle. In front of him, a lovely, doe-eyed wench had his cock in her mouth, tonguing it relentlessly.

“Oh fuck, yes, YES.”

The paddle was leaving red stripes on the cheeks of his ass. Jethann kept the punishment up, first one side, then the other, one hand holding the paddle, the other hand making soft caresses in the aftermath of each swat. Anders was pulling on the restraints, flinging his head around and stretching up onto the tips of his toes. Jethann would push the edge of the pain until Anders began to tremble, then set the paddle aside, pick up an elaborate wooden phallus, and slowly, deliciously work the mage's entrance with it. The girl – Anders never did learn her name – would pull back then, moving away so that Anders could thrust wildly, fucking himself on the toy.

Anders was so happy. They'd been doing this for well over an hour, switching between paddle and phallus, the girl holding him on the edge of orgasm, stretching it out into something beyond pleasure, beyond pain and Anders was floating in it. 

“You want to come, don't you?” Jethann's voice dripped into his ear like honey. When Anders couldn't managed anything more than a moan in response, he grabbed the man's golden hair and yanked his head back, hard. “Answer me.”

Most people thought Jethann was just a prostitute. 'Just'. He wasn't some dockside whore. He hadn't gotten to the top of his trade by without learning to give people not just what they wanted, but what they needed. He was part courtesan, part counsellor, and part confidant. He knew who needed tender care and who needed fucked hard and fast. 

Someone like Anders, someone who'd been there, done that and written the manual on lasciviousness? He needed to be taken to the edge, to hang over the abyss and then feel himself fall. And Jethann did so enjoy making men beg.

“Answer. Me.” Each word punctuated by a swipe of the paddle.

“Yes, please, fuck, fuck, yes.”

“Hmmm, that's better.” The elf gestured to the human girl and who took him into her mouth again, matching the wet slide of her lips to the motion of the phallus as Jethann eased it slowly in and back out of Anders. He kept the rhythm slow, cruelly slow, watching the tension build in the mage's body, the tremble of his legs, the way he whimpered and wriggled, seeking greater speed and force. Jethann reached around to pinch a nipple, drawing a deep moan from Anders' throat.

“THIS IS UNPRODUCTIVE.”

_Fuck...what?...Justice? What the fuck do you want now!_

“YOU CAME HERE SURREPTITIOUSLY. THAT WAS UNJUST”

Anders groaned as the twin movements of the toy in his ass and the warm mouth surrounding his cock picked up speed.

_Justice, I'm kind of busy._

“ARE YOU GOING TO LIE TO THE LYRIUM ELF?”

Oh, Maker, he was so close. He didn't need to be having this conversation right now.

_He doesn't need to know about it_

“THAT WOULD BE..”

_Shutupshutupshutup! I do NOT want to think about Fenris right now_

Fenris. Those limpid eyes. The tragic expression he'd turned on Anders that morning in the tent. The elf's desperate, slightly demented need to protect to him. The way his ears drooped when he felt guilty or inadequate.

Fuck.

Anders yanked on the ropes holding him. “NO!Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!” Too late. He'd gone soft in the girl's mouth and no amount of oral artifice could drive the image of a betrayed Fenris out of his mind. 

Ten minutes later, Anders was still naked, wrapped in a blanket. He was sobbing into Jethann's shoulder while the elf patted his back and whispered soothingly into his ear. The girl had been paid and dismissed. It wasn't the first time Jethann had dealt with a disconsolate customer and it wouldn't be the last. 

“There, there, sweetheart. You just cry it out. I'm here for you. You can tell me all about it. You know I'll take care of you.” He kept his voice low and sweet, waiting until Anders had cried out his frustration. Between snorts and hiccoughs and gasping sobs, Anders spilled out the whole story in Jethann's patient ears. 

“Honey, it sure sounds to me like he's interested. I saw the way he was looking at you when he was here. Like he wanted to gobble you up whole, and Maker help anyone who might get in the way.”

“But he won't DO anything about it! I've tried everything!”

“Well, he'll never believe it coming from you, darling.” He wiped Anders' nose with a warm wet cloth and waited while the healer gulped down some tea. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Maker no, he'll rip your lungs out and decorate his living room with them.”

“My. That doesn't sound like a very good decorating scheme. Hmm. Well, I think you should keep trying. Just relax, be yourself and keep flashing that lovely ass in his general direction. Oh, and flirt with anyone else you think he won't kill. Let him think he's got competition. Make him work for it.”


	11. Chapter 11

Wednesday was Wicked Grace night. Anders and Fenris arrived early, and Fenris made sure he had a clear view of the door to Varric's suite from where he sat. Anders ordered a large pitcher of ale for himself and began drinking morosely. Everyone turned up eventually, even Isabela who'd been off on some dubious errand. Midway through the first hand they were all surprised to see Carver arrive, in full Templar armour, accompanied by Keran, also kitted out. Fenris gave them a baleful glare and scooted his chair closer to Anders'. Carver greeted them all enthusiastically, though he and Hawke made the usual pretense and bickering before they all settled in to play.

Several times during the evening Keran gave Anders a significant look, but Anders answered him with a slight headshake. It was well into the night and everyone but Fenris and Hawke had folded, the two of them deeply engrossed in a ferocious bluffing contest, when Anders nodded to Keran over the elf's head. Casually, the young Templar leaned over to make small talk with Anders, slipping a folded piece of paper for the Underground into the mage's hand. Suddenly Fenris snapped to attention and Keran jerked back into his own space, hands raised in a placating gesture. 

“No worries, elf, I'm no poacher.” Keran smiled nervously. “Are you...is he _growling_ at me?” he squeaked, eyes darting between Fenris and Anders. 

“Hmm?” Anders gave Fenris a weary look. “Don't worry about it. Fenris has, ah, sinus problems.” Anders kicked the elf under the table.

Several hands, several pitchers of ale and several bottles of wine later, it was Fenris' turn to put in an order at the bar. Isabela waggled her eyebrows at Anders and followed a few steps behind the white-haired elf.

She leaned seductively against the bar while Fenris waited for Corff.

“So.” As usual, she punctuated her words with a smirk and a twitch of her hips.

“So?” Fenris responded in his usual deadpan rumble.

“You and Anders?”

“Anders and I?”

She leaned forwards, displaying her cleavage to best advantage. “Well something is definitely different between you two. Last time I saw you, you could barely say two words to each other without fighting, now you're hovering over him like a jealous lover?” She quirked an eyebrow.

“He is in need of protection. There have been far too many...incidents of late.”

“So _you've_ appointed yourself Anders' guardian? What about Justice?”

Fenris huffed. “The spirit has proven himself utterly inadequate to the task. As the mage's reckless intake of alcohol should attest.”

The pirate narrowed her eyes, looking back and forth between the two men. “So there's nothing going on between the two of you, then?” 

“Do not be disgusting.”

“Well, if you're not going after him, then I will. He was loads of fun before that stuffy old spirit took over. Bet I can convince him to give me another go, if Justice has backed off a bit.”

The flagon in Fenris' hand split, dumping ale all over the bar.

Back in Varric's suite, Isabela dropped into Anders' lap, draping her arms around his neck. When Fenris arrived carrying a tray full of drinks, she was nuzzling the mage's ear. 

“Are you trying to peek at my hand?” Anders eyed her suspiciously.

“It's not your hand I'm hoping to peek at,” she ran a tongue around the curve of his ear and he shivered.

“Isabela, it's kind of hard to play cards with you in my lap.”

She smirked, and adjusted herself so that his face was buried in her cleavage. “Aww. I thought you liked my breasts?”

Anders rolled his eyes. “They're lovely. I have very fond memories of both of them, but they do make it a bit hard to see my cards.”

“Just a little reminder. I do so miss that little electricity trick of yours.” She gave him a long, lingering kiss. “Once more, for old times sake?”

Anders rolled his eyes again. Putting his free hand at the base of her spine, he called just the tiniest bit of magic. Isabela tipped her head back and moaned obscenely. Hawke chuckled, Carver ignored them and Keran blushed, studying his cards intently.

“Fasta Vass.” Fenris slammed his cards down on the table and stormed out.

Anders stared in surprise. “Shit. I'd better go after him.” He dumped Isabela onto the floor and hurried after the elf.

“I missed something dirty again, didn't I?” Merrill looked around the table, an expression of consternation on her face.

It didn't take Anders long to realise he was far too drunk to be running through Lowtown. By the time he reached the last of the great stairs leading up to the swankier part of the city he was weaving akwardly. Not particularly willing to wind up faceplanting on the tiled terrace, he slowed down to an ungainly walk. 

Fenris only had a few minutes head start, nevertheless, by the time Anders barged into the elf's mansion, there were already two empty bottles of wine in front of him and another started.

_How does he do that?_

“Fenris? What happened? Are you alright?”

Fenris jumped to his feet and swayed slightly. “Anders! You did not walk all the way here alone, did you?”

“No, of course not. Justice walked with me.”

“Oh. That is good then.” He lurched over to where Anders was standing.

“Why did you run off?”

“Who does that pirate think she is?” Fenris waved his hands expansively, nearly overbalancing himself in the process. “What makes her think she can put her hands all over my mage? She's not the one protecting you, I am. She should keep her hands to herself!” He stumbled over to Anders, prodding him in the chest with a finger. “S' My job.”

“Guarding or handsing?”

Fenris took Anders face in his hands and rested their foreheads together. “You are drunk.”

“So are you.”

“I will have to walk you home.”

“You're drunker than I am.”

“Ah. You will have to stay here then.”

“There's only one bed.”

“I will sleep in the chair.”

“Don't be stupid. I'm not putting you out of your bed.” Anders started struggling with Fenris' armour.

“Fine.” Fenris slurred. “Then you will sleep in the bed.”

“Right. Wait, what?” At which point Fenris toppled, unconscious, into Anders' arms.


	12. Chapter 12

Morning smashed into Anders' head with the force of a thousand angry genlocks. He was buried in a puddle of blankets in a strange bed. After sorting out that the cold, prickling thing stuck under something heavy was, in fact, his own hand, he applied a small burst of healing energy to his violently throbbing skull. The pain eased immediately, and while magic couldn't do anything for the musty taste in his mouth, a cup of water would do nicely. As soon as he figured out his position relative to the ground and which direction best approximated 'up.'

While contemplation his extremities, he heard a pitiful whimper coming from somewhere inside the pile of blankets. He stuck a hand in until he encountered something soft and warm, and sent a burst of magic into it. Moving the blankets aside, he discovered that the soft thing was, in fact, a dishevelled head of white hair. Presumably there was a Fenris attached to it somewhere.

Fenris...bed...hangover. Oh, right. They'd been epicly drunk last night and he'd had to chase the elf down for...some reason. Sex? Anders hoped it was sex. He really, really hoped it was sex. Except, wait, he was still dressed. Dammit.

He sighed, considering how far he had fallen. He used to be good at this sort of thing. Time was, a knowing look, a light touch, the faintest of suggestive smiles and he'd have his quarry panting after him. But now, when it really mattered, he couldn't even manage a serious snog or a passionate groping.

Wait, what? Mattered. When did it start mattering to him? The elf? Had he actually become fond of the glowy bastard? Even started to care about him? How did that happen? Anders groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. Clearly his life was an example of the Maker's cruel and twisted sense of humor. Well, the solution was simple. He was just never going to get out of this bed. Ever again. Just waste away and die here as a protest of his own pathetic existence.

Except, oh right, this was Fenris' bed. And Fenris was still in it, apparently.  _Well that's just perfect._

An inspection of the pile of blankets and its subsequent angry squirming led Anders to believe that Fenris was probably still alive. He levered himself up and decided that it would be a good idea to visit the privy and then try to find something edible. On his way downstairs, he passed the spot where the dead bodies used to be, wondering idly over who'd bother to steal a couple of decomposing corpses.

Upon discovering that Fenris apparently never used his own kitchen or larder, Anders decided to see what he could get from the nearest market stall. He opened the front door just in time to greet Hawke, who was raising his hand to knock.

“Morning!” Garrett gave him the kind of disgustingly cheerful smile that Anders usually associated with the vilest of the vile – a morning person. Hawke handed him a basket full of food. “Can't have you wandering about, now can we?” After a snicker and a jaunty wave, for which Anders seriously considered murdering him, Hawke retreated into the glaring morning light. Really, the nerve of the sun, being so bright and all.

Anders closed the door, retreating into blessed gloom and examined the basket. Fortunately it was all Orana's handiwork, and a glorious assortment of pastries, breads, cheeses and fruits it was. She'd even included packets of tea and a pair of clean cups. Anders decided to marry her. Right after he finished eating. He tromped back upstairs, set the basket down on the nearest table and prodded the blankets.

“Elf.”

Growl.

Prod.

Growl.

“Come on, I know you're in there. Have some breakfast.”

Gro...a head popped out of the pile. Complete with a bleary, blinky, sleep-addled elf. After waiting for the world to resolve itself from a messy jumble of colours and shapes, Fenris eyed the basket suspiciously. “You did not go to the market, did you?”

Anders sighed, wearily. “No, Fenris, I wouldn't dream of doing anything so colossally dangerous as shopping for food. Hawke dropped it off.”

Fenris rubbed his eyes and mumbled something. He crawled out of the covers and shuffled over to the table. Anders considered it profoundly unfair that the elf was wearing only a pair of sinfully tight leggings while he himself was fully dressed. “I'll go make tea.” _and wait for my erection to subside._

Breakfast was, of course, delicious. Anders had settled back onto the bed with his cup of tea and was leaning his head against the wall. He looked idly at nothing, a nagging sense of _difference_ burrowing into his consciousness. After a few moments he blinked, suddenly realising what it was.

“Fenris? What happened to the hole in your roof?”

Much to his surprise, the elf looked embarrassed, examining his feet, his tea, his discarded gauntlets and any number of other things before answering. “I had it repaired. Varric knows a guy.”

Several random thoughts coalesced in Anders' brain. Missing corpses. Larder empty, but clean. Roof fixed. “Fenris! You had the place fixed up! Took you long enough. Why now?”

Fenris looked, if anything, even more self-conscious. “I did not think you would want to stay in a decrepit hovel.” 

Anders gaped at him.

Fenris' words came out fast and anxious. “It is not safe for you alone in the clinic. It would require little effort to force your door. If Templars or ruffians came you would be alone and I would not be there to aid you. I thought it might be preferable for you to stay here, where you can rest in relative comfort and safety. I have a room prepared for you, I am not expecting anything untoward!” He buried his nose in his teacup.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” The reality of Fenris' efforts hit Anders like a brick. A warm, cuddly, precious brick. He flung himself across the room and grabbed Fenris in a huge hug.

Hugging Fenris was rather like hugging a wet, irritable cat, but Anders wasn't about to let that stop him. “Fenris, that is the sweetest...” hug “most thoughtful...” hug “thing anyone has ever done for me.” He planted a firm kiss right on the tip of the elf's nose. And then another one on his lips. And another one. And a really long one, this time with tongue. Fenris stopped struggling to get loose and started struggling to wrap himself around the mage.

Anders kissed him until they were both breathless. Fenris pulled back suddenly, a look of consternation flooding his features. Anders locked his arms around the elf. “Oh, no you don't, I'm not letting you get away this time.” He strode purposefully over to the bed, dumped Fenris onto it and climbed onto him, pinning the slender wrists to the mattress before diving in for another round of blistering kisses.

“Anders..” Fenris was struggling feebly, desperately trying to stop his hips from arching needily up against the mage's body. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you the meaning of 'untoward', elf.” He continued ravaging Fenris' mouth before moving on to the curve of his neck and up into the delicate sweep of his ear. Fenris began moaning and writhing, his legs moving to capture Anders waist, pulling them closer together. The mage was rocking his hips against Fenris, and the elf felt his resolve collapse faster than a hovel in Lowtown. 

He lay back on the bed, gasping, while Anders started ripping clothing off them both. When he had them both bared to their smalls, the mage began tracing Fenris' brands with his tongue, pausing to nip and suck at a pair of dusky nipples, fingers sliding enticingly at the waist of his underthings.

“Anders.” He attempted one last vestige of sanity. “Please, you cannot allow me to take advantage of you like this.”

“Fenris,” Anders' voice was sinfully silky in his ear, followed by a swipe of tongue that had the elf trembling. “I have wanted you for so long.” Anders took the warrior's hand and pressed it up against an impressively hard erection. “For you,” he whispered. “I've been rubbing myself raw every night, for you. I need you. But if you really want me to stop I will. I will stop because _you_ want me to. Not because you think I want to. Because I don't. I really, really don't.” 

Fenris' eyes were huge and dark as his fingers traced the outline of Anders' cock. The mage gasped. “Oh, Maker, yes.” His eyes closed and he rocked against the questing fingers.

KISS HIM AGAIN.

_What?_

HE TASTES OF THE SONG. KISS HIM AGAIN.

_Pervert._

Not that Anders was averse to kissing Fenris. Not at all. He wriggled out of his smalls and pulled Fenris on top of him as he reclined on the bed. The elf's weight created an exquisite friction against his hardness as he locked his legs over the back of Fenris' knees and ground up into him. He ran his hands over every inch of bare skin, tracing the lines of tattoos, following the dip of his spine, sliding into Fenris' smalls to cup the curve of his ass. He pushed the cloth out of the way until there was nothing left but skin against skin, hard flesh against hard flesh, hot breath and wet tongues.

“I want you inside me.”

Fenris sat up, perturbed. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

Anders smirked. “Not even if I ask you to?”

A flash of fear in the elf's eyes. “It will hurt. It always hurts.”

Anders' eyes softened in compassion. “No, Fenris, it doesn't. It never _has_ to hurt." He took one of Fenris' hands into his mouth and slowly licked his fingers, coating each digit in saliva. Fenris watched as Anders legs opened and and his hand was slowly guided between them until his dripping fingers were poised right at the mage's entrance. Tentatively he pushed one finger forwards until it slid into the warm embrace of Anders' body. 

He gasped as Anders thrust against the intrusion, lashes fluttering, mouth slightly open in bliss. The mage's cock was hard against his stomach, swollen and red, a trickle of milky liquid welling from the tip. Fascinated, Fenris added a second finger and was rewarded by a hiss of pleasure as Anders wound his hands into the sheets.

“You _do_ enjoy this,” he murmured wonderingly.

“Maker, yes.” Anders arched his neck, biting his lip. Fenris turned his hand slightly, brushing against a firm spot inside of him caused Anders to cry out.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, don't stop, don't.” The mage pushed against him, urging Fenris to speed up his thrusting. After a few moments of hungry writhing, Anders pulled away from Fenris and positioned himself above the elf. A flicker of magic and Fenris felt warm slickness coating his shaft, a firm hand holding him steady and the exquisite bliss of Anders lowering himself onto Fenris' twitching erection.

They groaned in unison as skin met skin. Anders lifted himself slightly, then slid down the length of Fenris' cock again. Fenris gasped and arched up to meet him. After a moment the two of them fell into a rhythm, sliding becoming thrusting becoming pounding. 

It was exquisite, like nothing Fenris had ever felt before. Anders was warm and tight around him and the wet slide of him was more intoxicating than any wine he had ever tasted. Everything was forgotten, nothing existed and the world was narrowed to the merging of bodies and the pure fire threatening engulf his senses.

Anders covered Fenris' hand with his own, and brought them both to the blond's cock, neglected and purple with need. Together they squeezed and tugged in time to the slapping of flesh as Anders rode Fenris into oblivion. His body was trembling, every muscle straining towards ecstasy. His hips stuttered, his balls tightened, every inch of him alive with pleasure. Head thrown back, mouth open in a silent wail, brands flaring into brilliance, he felt himself roaring to completion, pouring his seed into Anders in a glorious rush.

The sudden swelling and burst of wet heat inside him was enough to drive Anders over the edge. His knees dug into the mattress as he slammed himself into Fenris' pulsing cock, once, twice, a third time, then his body convulsed, his toes curled and his eyes sparked with blue fire and he cried out as his release spilled, thick and white over the join of their two hands. “Yes, fuck, yes, oh!” his voice trailed off into a wordless keen. 

YESSS...

Anders collapsed on top of Fenris, too sated to respond.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and commenting, I'm surprised and gratified to have gotten so much love on this story. I hadn't expected it to become so long or involved. It was supposed to be a quick one for a prompt I liked to give me some levity while I worked on other things. It kind of got away from me and I'm glad it did. It turned out to be loads of fun to write. <3

Sometime later, Fenris was curled possessively around his mage while Anders nuzzled into his shoulder. “Did you find that pleasurable?”

Anders chucked. “You have to ask?” He trailed kisses along the elf's collarbone. “What about you?”

“It was better than anything I could have imagined.” Toying with loose strands of blond hair. “So then, that man, in the clinic...”

“Angus?”

“Yes.  _Him._  He was not assaulting you, then.”

“No, he wasn't.”

A frown. “But he was choking you.”

Anders raised his head to meet deep green eyes. “Sometimes oxygen deprivation during sex can heighten the experience of orgasm. It's very pleasurable.”

“But it is dangerous.”

“That's part of what makes it exciting. But, yes, it is dangerous, and it's not something to be done lightly.”

Fenris flattened his ears against his head and looked down. “I do not think I would be comfortable performing such an action.”

Anders kissed him. “You don't have to. I like it, but I don't need it. I might like you to restrain me now and again. Maybe that spanking you mentioned a few weeks ago.” Anders' cock twitched with renewed interest.

“I do not understand how you can enjoy being hurt.”

“I enjoy the frustration of being restrained, and I do enjoy very specific kinds of pain. It makes the entire experience much more intense.”

“But is that not how the Templars treated you? Are you certain you have not merely been conditioned?”

“To like men? No. I've always been attracted to both genders. I knew that long before any Templar laid a hand on me. The rest? Maybe. It doesn't matter though. There was a time in my life when sex was frightening and difficult. It brought back things I really didn't want to remember. But with the help of some very patient and loving friends I learned to reclaim my body and my sexuality, to enjoy it and even revel in it. As for restraint and punishment, it's really just a game, because in the end, I'm the one in control. No matter how tightly I'm bound, how hard I'm hit or choked or held down, there's always a word or a signal that means 'stop'. And anyone who doesn't respect those limits would find themselves on the receiving end of a very nasty lightning bolt.”

“There are others, then?” A sideways look and Fenris wrapped himself more tightly around him. 

“No, Fenris, you have very successfully managed to scare off any competition you might have had. Besides, even if there were anyone else looking my way, I've just found out I have an elf fetish.” He tweaked the tip of one long pointed ear.

“An elf fetish?”

"Mmmhmmm. A very specific elf fetish. Not just any elf will do. It seems I'm particularly attracted to white-haired elves with elaborate lyrium tattoos. Anything else just isn't worth bothering with.” He kissed Fenris gently, gazing deep into his eyes. They snuggled together for a bit longer before Fenris poked him in the ribs.

“So that is a yes, then?”

“Yes, what?”

“You will be moving in.” Fenris nipped the side of his neck.

“Ahhh. Keep doing that! Yes, of course I want to move in with you. All those years we weren't having sex? A lot of lost time to make up for. Fenris?”

“Mmm?”

“Can we get a cat?”

“I will consider it. But first I would like you to be untoward again.”

Somewhere in the back of Anders' mind, Justice was murmuring happily.


End file.
